


Petites Horreurs

by monokuma_theater



Category: Slender Man Mythos
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 13:59:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8105116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monokuma_theater/pseuds/monokuma_theater
Summary: The changing of the seasons.





	

**I.**

 

You looked at the man sleeping besides you. You wanted to lift off his mask and look upon his face, to run your tongue softly across its form without waking him and with your other hand crush his skull. His blood would puddle in your gloved hand and splatter across your face and he would die without feeling a thing. His body would just go on sleeping. You would sit by his corpse for the rest of the ride the only sound being the jostling of the carriage and the snorting and stamping of the horse’s hooves. They were running at speeds the carriage owner had never known them to move before and you supposed you were the reason for this you. Gently, softly, you moved your hand underneath the man’s head. He had his hood down, you felt his hair through your gloves and it was nice. He felt cold to you. He groaned; his sleeping body stirring with discomfort brought on by your touch, you unslipped your hand and brought it back to your side and looked away from the sleeping man besides you.

 

**II.**

 

They moved with such speeds that you were impressed even if you didn’t show it; not that they could see what you weren’t showing.  Like a well seasoned assembly line,  they sorted through the documents, placing them in order in the boxes cardboard boxes and with a “kkrIP” taped them shut with clear shinny packaging tape. 

One by one, they passed them down the line until the back of the waiting red truck was completely filled. They didn’t know you where there, they didn’t know what they were doing; you moved them from the shadows. You always knew you could do something like this; moving people like pawns across a chess board, manipulate their movements like a puppeteer  You had never tried before now and now that you had you had no idea why you hadn’t sooner. It felt…right and everything moved so much faster this way.

It was a bit taxing; however, on you so you looked forward to when you could stop doing it but before you knew the offending building was emptied of anything important and ablaze in your cleansing blessing.

 

**III.**

 

You slumped against the church door. You figured you were safe. Uncurling your fingers from the side of the door, you shut it the rest of the way with your weight and slid down the door until your bottom hit the floor. It was a beautiful door, a dark brown wood with intricate carvings from some bible story you were unfamiliar with. You sighed as you stretched your legs out. The mob that was chasing you was running by, you smelled the fire of their torches and a stray gun shot or two rang in the fall night air. That reminded you of the bullet that had managed to hit you. At this time in your life you had been hit by multiple bullets over a numerous occasions and you had no problem before but this one was stuck in you. It hurt. You were bleeding all over yourself and you felt weak and miserable. You were gripping your shoulder with the opposite hand, deciding whether you wanted to try and fish it out when you felt someone enter the room or cathedral or whatever this place was called. You ignored the person and made a sad attempt at fishing the bullet out, you could barely suppress your pitiful whines as your fingers slipped against the bullet with every attempt to touch it, it spun like a pinwheel inside you cause a spassum of pain to shake through you. It was a blinding sort of pain that preventing you from seeing the person who had entered the room draw near. He stood in front of you now, with his arms fold behind him looking down at you with a careful blank expression which you could not see as his face was obscured by a leather mask with a long beak, you could just tell by the feel he was given off. Something careful, something blank.

“You’re hurt,” He said curtly, and you pulled your fingers out of you wounded and tilted your head up at him. You let your hand fall to the church floor with some considerable weight so the thud echoed in the empty domed room.

“Let me help,” His voice soften. You put up no resistance as the priest or monk or whatever he was began (after much puttering around the building, getting this and that) to tend to your wounds. You had lost a surprising amount of blood. When he went for your bullet with a prong like tool with an L shaped head he had to hold you still with his other hand. In any other state, you’d have broken his arm like a twig but right now he could have held you down with his pinkie. He placed the silver bullet on a silver platter and dipped a rough looking cloth in a bowl of water. He whispered something and you grunted at him in response. He began to wash your wound. You fell asleep with the feel of the warm, damp cloth against your face.

 

**IV.**

 

Time began long ago. You were sure you were prepared for when it would stop but lately you weren’t sure. Lately, you were rather fond of sitting down and actually letting time pass you by rather than you pass it by. 

You, lately, liked to just sit on a stump or whatever is closed to your sitting parts and just let the seconds tick by. You were hours early to things sometimes, lately, and would just stand there, waiting and enjoying the passage of time.

 

**V.**

 

“Knowledge is power! Knowledge is power! Knowledge is power!” The TV said, the device that was on was skipping over and over again. It was cheerful and was annoying about a half an hour ago, but now you could successfully ignore it. It had faded away in the background, nothing more that static, white noise. You were lounging on the couch in front of it, your fingers loosely gripping a beer can. You were staring, unfocused up at the ceiling with a particularly large hole in your head and a lit cigarette hanging equally as loose from your mouth. You limply brought your hand to your mouth, that is the beer can to your mouth, and moved the cigarette to the side, holding it with your tongue as you poured the toxic liquid into your open mouth. Unable to close it right away, the beer slipped down the sides of your chin and rolled down your neck into your body. You made an attempt at sighing but your body didn’t respond. You would have to wait for the rest of your head grew back and you to sobered up. You dropped the beer can in the growing pile of cans that littered the floor so thoroughly you could no longer see the carpet.

 

**VI.**

 

You refused to believe such a thing was possible. Monsters didn’t exist and you were as sane as anyone and yet here you were; administered at the local hospital for the mentally inept because of the continuing nightmares you had. They were such nightmares. You would wake up screaming, thrashing in your bed with such ferocity that the nurses would have to restrain you. It got so bad that you were set to this terrible place.

Months later, you had made incredible progress, so the doctors said. You were waiting for a doctor now, to give you your final assessment so you could leave. 

You were sitting, prim and proper, in a chair. You looked well dressed, awake and fully alert. The doctor opened the door. He was a large man in width but short in height, with thick round bottlecut lenses and a woolly mustache that looked like a brush. His coat was partially unbuttoned which was strange for him. He looked a bit frazzled. You said his name, sounding concerned. He placed a folder that was in his hands in front of you, on the table you were sitting in front of (he sitting on the other side). You made no move to touch the document. You looked at him, looking amused and slightly confused but in no way convincingly confused you could not contain your glee. He opened the milnia folder and asked what the meaning of this was. You simply smiled at him and said you had no idea what that was and if you were okay to leave now. He persisted in his questioning and you began to get visibly upset. You stood up and walked slowly to the rooms only window, with your arms behind you back you looked outside this barred window. 

It was a lovely summer’s day out. 

You asked the doctor if he believed in monsters.  

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! thank you for reading!! these were all apart of a series of prompts i did about three or so years ago! im just gonna leave them be and not re write them or anything so you know, enjoy that!! they were intended to be like me fleshing out my headcanons for slender man based on really early mythos stuff, which i like the most, ah,,,thats it i think!! bye!


End file.
